One of Us
by Purple Astro
Summary: Quatre falls ill on his way to Sank.


Disclaimer: Um, I felt angsty…I don't own them, more's the pity. Some rich corporation probably does. This takes place in-between the episode where Heero goes mad in Zero, and the one where they arrive on Earth. There may be sequels…

****

One of Us

By

Purple Astro

Quatre shifted uneasily in his sleep, muttering something under his breath. Heero looked over at him with something approaching concern and something else approaching annoyance. He considered, briefly, waking the Arabian, but decided not to. He wasn't disturbing anyone…yet.

"Whatever you're dreaming, Quatre," he muttered, "you better hurry up and sort it out."

Quatre stood on a wide, barren plain. Zero was nearby, buried up to the knees and tilting at an odd angle. The ruined husk of the Vay-8 lay just beyond it. A short distance away, Sandrock was lying on the ground.

"W-what's going on?" Quatre turned in a circle, trying to see…well, anything. Nothing came into view, until he'd almost completed the circle. Far away, almost out of sight, the remains of the satellite his father had died on had crashed to earth. Quatre set out in that direction, for lack of anything better to do.

Heero grunted slightly as Quatre, twisting wildly, managed to hit his ribs with an elbow.

"Quatre, stop it!" He shook the smaller boy, but he refused to wake up. "Quatre!"

"Quatre…Quatre…" Quatre spun in place, trying to find the voices which were calling his name.

"Who's there!" He managed to keep his voice from trembling, but it was an effort; Quatre could always tell when there were people around, and he was feeling nothing now. Yet the voices continued, calling him, drawing him on towards the satellite. "Who is it? Heero?"

Heero started as Quatre muttered his name.

"What is it, Quatre?" Frowning, he looked closely at him. Quatre was sweating, and was beginning to toss and turn more. Heero touched his forehead and felt heat pouring off it. "Damm. That's all we need."

Having reached the satellite, Quatre didn't know what to do next. The voices had disappeared as he came closer, and he could still sense no one around. He'd discovered that only a tiny portion of the satellite had landed; probably not by coincidence, it was the part where he'd last seen his father. Blackened, twisted metal still held the shape of the window he'd seen his father at. Quatre shivered, remembering the volley of shots that he and Irana had only just avoided.

"Quatre." Shocked, he looked up to discover a familiar shape standing in the opening.

"Trowa?"

Heero frowned again. Quatre's temperature was rocketing upwards. The five pilots weren't strangers to injury—Heero himself had fallen from a Gundam only a little while before—but fever wasn't something he had a huge amount of experience with. The first aid kit on the shuttle had some pain relievers, which he'd forced down Quatre's throat, and he was giving him plenty to drink, but beyond that there wasn't much he could do.

"Trowa?" Quatre scrambled up the outside of the satellite until he was level with the other pilot. "Trowa, what's going on?"

"We're waiting for you." Trowa turned to enter the satellite, visible for a moment against the pitch darkness inside.

"Trowa, I don't want to go in there."

"We're all waiting for you, Quatre." Trowa looked back over his shoulder, one eye hidden behind his bangs. "Come on. It's not so bad."

"I can't see, Trowa." There was a pause, as though Trowa was considering responses.

"I can." A hand, with fingers like ice, attached itself to Quatre's wrist. "I'll show you the way."

"No, Trowa, wait…"

"Stop…Trowa, stop…don't…no!" Heero ducked as Quatre began flailing around again, tackling the other boy and holding him down. Quatre bucked once or twice, trying to force the Japanese pilot off, then he quieted down. Tears ran quietly down his cheeks, and he continued to call Trowa's name.

Quatre stumbled along after Trowa, unable to see where they were going. Trowa was going just fast enough to occasionally pull Quatre off his feet; the fingers around his wrist never let go, and Quatre was completely disoriented. He felt as though they'd been walking through the satellite forever when they finally reached a large, well-lit room. It was lit to the point of half-blinding Quatre; wincing against the sudden light, he barely noticed when Trowa let go, shoving him forward in the same motion. Quatre stumbled forward a couple of steps, halting in what was probably the centre of the room. The walls seemed to move every time he looked at them. The other four pilots sat or stood around the edges of the room, and each one of them glared at him as though he were Oz personified.

Heero was really getting worried now, although of course it didn't show. He might not have been familiar with fever, but he knew Quatre couldn't sustain the temperature he was running now.

"Come on, Quatre. Fight this. I know you can." He wiped Quatre's forehead off again. "If you don't hurry up and get better, Romefeller's going to find us. And then that last fight will have all been for nothing. Get it?"

"Guys…Trowa…" Quatre was finding it more and more difficult to concentrate. "What's happening?" The pilots wavered in and out of focus. Shaking his head, Quatre forced his eyes to focus on the nearest pilot, who turned out to be Heero. "Heero? What is this?"

"Quatre." Heero was suddenly very close to him, and Quatre recoiled instinctively. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"I remember…" he closed his eyes. Bits and pieces of memories assaulted him. "I remember the Zero. I remember the Treize faction, and the doctors."

"Hnn." Quatre looked up. 

"You tried Zero, didn't you?"

"Yes." 

"And I got…" he shook his head. "A shuttle? We were on a shuttle, you and I."

"Yes." Heero stared down at him, using his height advantage. "And the others?"

"I…I don't know."

"Yes you do. Trowa?" Quatre gasped as that memory came back.

"Trowa…oh, Trowa, the Vay-8…" He shuddered, seeing the explosion once again, seeing Heero's Mercurious pin him down when he would have gone after Trowa.

"Your fault." Trowa said from beside him. He blinked; hadn't Heero been there a moment before? Trowa was still talking, though, and he forced himself to concentrate. "Your fault, Quatre. The fight; the explosion; all of it. Your fault."

"But, Trowa…you're alive."

"No." Heero was back beside him. Even through the fog that was currently his senses, Quatre sensed that this might be important. "This is all illusion, Quatre. Do you understand? Not real."

"What about us?" Duo elbowed Heero aside. "Wufei and I were trapped on that colony you were about to blow up. Didn't you think of that? Did you think about the people on the colonies at all?"

"Weak _AND _injust." Wufei snorted, not even bothering to get up. "Why does this baka even fight with us?" He was addressing Heero, who was in typical 'Heero pose' against one of the walls, head down, arms folded. At Wufei's remark he looked up and met Quatre's eyes.

"He was chosen." he reminded them.

"By the doctors he just killed when he exploded his suit." Duo rejoined.

"It wasn't my suit," Quatre murmured, "and I had to stop Heero. Zero was driving him mad."

"You'd know about that, wouldn't you?" Trowa said. "After all, you destroyed a colony and a friend with Zero. If Heero hadn't stopped you, what else would you have destroyed?"

"Nothing!" Quatre cried. 

Quatre had quieted down, but his temperature refused to come down, no matter what Heero did. He was seriously considering sending out an SOS; even if Romefeller did catch them, Quatre would be looked after. In fact he was turning towards the control panel when Quatre sat up, crying out.

"_HEERO!!_" Heero turned back.

"Quatre." Quatre didn't seem to really see him, but when Heero touched his arm he gripped his hand tightly.

"Heero…my fault? Trowa, was Trowa my fault?"

"It wasn't your fault." Heero told him firmly. Quatre sighed.

"Not? Duo, and Wufei…the doctors…all of it? Not my fault?"

"Not your fault. Rest, Quatre. It wasn't your fault." Quatre relaxed, but his hand didn't let go of Heero's arm. Heero looked down and shook it gently.

Quatre still didn't let go.

"Hnn."

Quatre slowly lifted his head. The walls of the room shuddered once more and then stayed still. The pilots threw brief, swift looks at each other, and Trowa stepped forward.

"Quatre."

"Yes, Trowa." Quatre was utterly calm.

"Why did you do it, Quatre?"

"Do what, Trowa?"

"Kill me. Kill all of us."

"You're not dead, Trowa. I _know _you're not. Not dead…but then you're not here, either, are you?" Trowa looked confused. 

"What?"

"You're not here, Trowa. Duo and Wufei aren't here. Heero…Heero's with me, but he's not here either." He looked up at Trowa. "We're going to the Earth. Heero has someone waiting for him there." Trowa took an uncertain step back and was replaced instantly by Wufei.

"Injustice." he said firmly. "You attacked an innocent colony."

"I did." Quatre agreed. "That was the Zero system, though. Not me, not really. Zero clouds your mind."

"Injustice! A true warrior does not need excuses."

"They're not excuses, Wufei. I'm not proud of what I've done, and I'll spend my life making up for it if I can. But to do that, I have to live. That's all I want. To live, and to make up for my mistake." The four pilots blurred and vanished. In their place came the spectres of the soldiers he had killed, both in battle and on the colony. Quatre knelt, trying not to see them, but they surrounded him, forcing him to his feet and pushing him back and forth.

"K'so!" Heero swore again. Quatre's temperature, which had been slowly dropping, had just shot up to its highest point yet. Quatre was literally dripping with sweat now, his clothes and seat soaked. Yet he still wouldn't let go of Heero's hand. Heero was fairly sure he couldn't dislodge him short of actually hurting him, which he was reluctant to do if he could help it. He'd changed the shuttle's course so that instead of going to Earth, they were headed for the resource satellite where Quatre's sister Irana lived. Hopefully, she could help.

Quatre was getting disoriented again. The—people?—surrounded him, shoving him back and forth, turning him around, so that he had no idea which way he was facing. His eyes widened even more as the crowd parted, making way for the civilians he'd killed. There were only a few, but one or two was one or two too many, and he knew it.

One was only a child, a little girl, and as Quatre watched, horrified, she lashed out, tearing his cheek and drawing blood. Quatre reeled back but the crowd surrounded him again, reaching for him.

__

Deception, they hissed. _You were to be our saviour, and look what you've done! Disgrace. _The other pilots were back, tearing at him, pulling at his arms, trying to knock him off balance. _Traitor_, they called him, _weak fool. We do not need you. Run home, to your father's money and your father's power. You are not a solider._

Reeling, Quatre tried desperately not to listen to them, but their words floated in his head, and he couldn't stop thinking about them. In his muddled thoughts, they transformed into a sort of song or chant, one he half-recognised from when he was very small.

Deception.

Disgrace.

Evil as plain as the mark on his face.

Deception (and outrage) 

Disgrace (for shame)

He asked for trouble the moment he came (see you later, agitator) 

Born in fear

Raised in hate

Helpless to 

Deny his fate

Let him run

Let him live

We do not forget

What we cannot forgive

And he is not one of us.

He has never been one of us.

He is not one of us.

Not our kind.

Someone once lied to us.

Now we're not so blind.

For we knew he would do what he's one.

And we know that he'll never be one of 

(us) He is not one of us.

Deception.

Disgrace.

He forced his way through the crowd, fighting off their grips, and sprinted for the doorway. The spirits gave chase, hissing after him, repeating their earlier words, until one spirit called them back.

__

Let him run, it hissed. _Let him live. He will not forget what we cannot forgive. _Quatre heard him clearly; unable to see, he'd slowed almost to a halt as soon as he got out of the room.

"Having problems?" He looked up as a spark flew. A piece of paper burned; in its' light, Heero looked at him enquiringly.

"I can't see, Heero."

"I can." Heero held out his hand. "I'll show you the way." Quatre hesitated. "What's wrong?"

"Trowa said that, and he brought me…" He glanced over his shoulder, shuddering unconsciously. "He brought me in there."

"But I will show you the way out." He watched Quatre hesitate again, and added, "If you want, of course. We could stay here, and they will find you." He gestured to the room behind them; the spirits inside were getting restless.

"Do you mean that you would stay with me, Heero?"

"You stayed with me, ne? When Zero made me crazy?" The piece of paper in his hand flickered, threatening to burn his fingers, but he didn't drop it. Quatre stared at him. Of all the things he'd expected from Hero, friendship—of a sort—wasn't it. The paper finally burned to nothing, and the scene went dark. Quatre listened for half a heartbeat to the noises from the room before nodding. 

"Heero?"

"Yes, Quatre."

"Take me out." He extended his hand, and Heero grasped it.

"Don't worry, Quatre. I'll show you the way."

Quatre sighed and opened his eyes. Heero looked down enquiringly.

"Feeling better?"

"Yes, I…" He raised a hand to his forehead, pushing his hair back. "I feel much better now." He glanced around. "How long was I…"

"A day, maybe more."

"A day? Shouldn't we have reached Earth by now?"

"I changed course."

"Why? Where are we going?"

"Depends on you." Quatre stared at him. "We were going to see Irana. If you want to, we can still go there. Or we can go to Earth." Quatre flushed a little.

"I don't need to see Irana."

"If you say so." Heero responded. "I'll go change course back to Earth, then." He lifted their still linked hands, and Quatre flushed again, opening his fingers with some difficulty.

"Sorry, Heero."

"Just lay still." Heero moved towards the cockpit. Quatre lay for just a moment, until the silence became too heavy to bear.

"Heero?"

"Hnn."

"While I was…did I say anything?"

"Trowa. You asked me if Trowa was your fault."

"I really did?" Heero glanced over his shoulder.

"You remember that?"

"No…I had a dream."

"Your cheek's bleeding."

"My…" Quatre raised his hand to his cheek, hissing slightly on contact.

When he took his fingers away, bright red blood was splashed across them. Heero frowned at the look on his face.

"What's wrong?"

"In my dream…a little girl cut my cheek. This cheek," he added, indicating the bleeding cheek.

"What else happened?"

"Um…" Quatre hedged. "I don't really remember." Heero shot him a 'yeah, sure' look, but he didn't press it.

"We'll be at Earth in a few hours. You should get some rest."

"I will. Heero?" Heero paused on his way back to the cockpit. "One thing I do remember…you saved me. Thank you."

"Hnn."

Afterword: Yes, I know Duo and Wufei weren't on the colony, and I know the doctors didn't die. _Quatre _doesn't know that, though. This story came out different than I thought it would…there will be a sequel. Probably.

Review!!!!!!!!


End file.
